ALLEGIANCE

Chapter 24: Small Favors

Monday arrived beneath a sky scrubbed clean by the previous night's rain. The glass façade of the Cross Foundation reflected strips of pale blue between drifting clouds.

Deborah adjusted the strap of her handbag before stepping inside.

The lobby had already settled into its familiar rhythm. The receptionist greeted volunteers by name. Delivery staff wheeled boxes toward the loading dock. Somewhere beyond the elevators, a copier hummed steadily against the low murmur of morning voices.

She smiled to herself. Six weeks ago she had needed directions to every department in the building. Now she caught herself giving them.

Sometimes she still found it strange. She had walked into the foundation believing it would be a temporary stop, a place to gain experience until nursing finally began.

Somewhere between community meetings, volunteer rosters, and impossible deadlines, the weeks had slipped quietly into months. She hadn't noticed the shift while it was happening. One day the work had simply started feeling... like hers.

"Morning, Deborah."

Luis lifted a hand from the mail trolley.

"Morning."

"You've got three packages waiting upstairs."

"I hope none of them are more volunteer binders."

"They're heavier."

"I'll take that as bad news."

By half past nine, her desk had disappeared beneath calendars, budget summaries, and handwritten notes from community partners.

She reached for her laptop. The screen flickered once, then twice before freezing entirely

Deborah tapped the screen lightly, then pressed the power button several times. Nothing happened.The blank screen stared back at her.

The second attempt produced only a faint clicking sound.

"Not today," she murmured.

For a brief moment she almost laughed. Months ago, something like this would have sent her into a panic. She would have imagined missed hospital emails, delayed application forms, another chance slipping through her fingers. Those thoughts still came sometimes, though not as often.

Margaret still asked about nursing from time to time, not with pressure anymore, but with quiet hope. Deborah always smiled, hugged her, and promised she hadn't abandoned the dream completely.

She wasn't sure whether she was comforting her mother or herself.

She glanced toward the clock. Her first planning meeting began in twenty minutes.

"I'll call IT," she whispered to herself, already reaching for the office phone.

Before she dialed, a soft knock sounded against her open door. A young technician stood there carrying a sealed cardboard box.

"Miss Carter?"

"Yes?"

"I've been looking for you."

He placed the box gently on her desk.

"Replacement computer."

Her eyelids fluttered. Almost without thinking, her thumb found its way to her mouth. She caught herself after three quick bites and lowered her hand to the desk. She had been hoping the old computer would be replaced for weeks.

"I didn't request one."

"We received authorization this morning."

He checked his paperwork. "Priority replacement."

"There must be some mistake."

"I don't believe so."

He smiled politely. "Would you like me to transfer your files?"

Deborah looked from the unopened box to her lifeless computer.

"...Yes, please."

The technician finished just as Michael appeared.

"Everything alright?"

"I think so."

She rested one hand on the new computer. "It seems my laptop was replaced."

Michael glanced toward the box. "Good."

"You knew?"

"I heard IT mentioning it."

"They move quickly."

"They do when approval comes early." He said nothing more neither did Deborah.

Yet the question lingered quietly in the back of her mind. Who approved it?

Later that afternoon she crossed paths with Julian outside the conference room. He noticed the new computer immediately.

"Looks like IT solved your problem."

"They certainly did."

"I'm glad."

"Did you know about it?"

He paused only briefly. "I heard your laptop had failed."

"It did."

"It seemed easier to replace it than keep repairing a machine that had already become unreliable."

She looked at him for a moment. "Thank you."

"It wasn't much."

He inclined his head toward the conference room. "You've got enough to think about already."

Before she could answer, he continued down the corridor.

Watching him walk away, she realized he never made his kindness feel like a debt. He solved problems with the same quiet ease other people answered emails, then carried on as though nothing unusual had happened.

She admired that about him, more than admired it, perhaps. The thought arrived so unexpectedly that she almost smiled at herself.

Don't be ridiculous, Deborah, he's your boss.

Deborah watched him disappear around the corner until only the quiet hum of the corridor remained . She pretended the strange warmth in her chest belonged entirely to gratitude.